


Innocent

by lookingforthestars



Category: Scorpion (TV 2014)
Genre: F/M
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2017-07-25
Updated: 2018-03-20
Packaged: 2018-12-06 20:01:00
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 9
Words: 13,732
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/11607915
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/lookingforthestars/pseuds/lookingforthestars
Summary: "I didn't do it. Whatever you see, whatever they say on the news, I didn't do it." (On permanent hiatus)





	1. Hell of a Day

"Paige." She smiled. Walter hated waking her up, and he always whispered just loud enough to get her attention if she was mostly alert, but not to rouse her from deep sleep or, worse, a dream. He'd learned quickly that being startled in the middle of a dream made her grouchy for hours. "Paige, I'm leaving."

She rolled onto her side, blinking until her eyes adjusted. It couldn't be more than seven, judging by the low light streaming in through her curtains. Paige pulled the comforter closer to her with her arm. "No. Stay here," she murmured. "I'm cold."

Walter laughed at her fake petulance and bent one knee onto the bed, pulling the blanket up to cover her bare shoulders. He pressed a brief kiss to her forehead. "I'll turn the air off on my way out."

"Is this meeting really that important?" Paige propped herself up on her elbow, letting the blanket slink back down and looking at him with what she hoped was an appropriately sultry expression. "I can think of much better things to do with our morning."

The genius looked amused, but she knew at least a small portion of his brain was considering the offer. "You already kept me up half the night. I'm not sure I have the stamina to keep up with you."

She shrugged, batting her eyes innocently. "I need the workout. I'm out of shape."

"You're perfect, and I have to go." He kissed her again, groaning when her tongue lightly traced his bottom lip. But responsibility won out, as it always did, and he pulled away, flashing her an apologetic smile. "I'll be back in a few hours, unless Cabe calls with something."

"O-kay," Paige said with an overly dramatic sigh. "Just don't forget about Ralph's presentation tonight."

"Wouldn't miss it." She'd long since gotten over being self-conscious when Walter looked at her the way he was looking at her now—that focused, lingering stare that sent her up in flames. Physical attractiveness was inconsequential to Walter. He needed so much more to consider a person beautiful, and the fact that he saw that in her made her feel infinitely more gorgeous than if he'd based it on looks alone. "I love you."

She bit her lip. He didn't know it yet, but he was in for another very busy night. "Love you too, nerd."

* * *

Paige locked the dishwasher door, pressing the start button and rinsing the sponge she'd used under cold water from the sink faucet. She glanced at the clock above the stove and was surprised to find it was almost four. Walter gave the team a day off since he was spending a chunk of it in that Homeland budget meeting. She offered to join, knowing that Walter considered such administrative duties unworthy of his time and intelligence, and was likely to make a remark to that effect to someone with control over their paychecks. But he'd insisted that Cabe would be enough of a buffer, and that she should catch up on all the mundane chores that piled up with their hectic schedule.

It was getting late, though, and Paige had expected him to be done already. Ralph's demonstration for the Robert Kostuck Scientific Achievement Award was at seven and they'd planned to leave early to help her son set up.

Walter would be there. He always was.

Her phone buzzed on the counter and Paige wiped her hands before picking it up. She didn't recognize the number, but that wasn't unusual, especially if new clients had been referred to Scorpion. "Hello?"

"Paige. Thank god."

"Walter?" He sounded out of breath, like he'd been running. Paige frowned. "Whose phone are you calling from?"

"It's a burner. Paige, I need you to call Cabe. Do whatever he tells you to do. They're going to question you, but it'll be okay, I promise."

The genius's words were uncharacteristically jumbled, and Paige processed them slowly and out of order. "Question us? Who? Walter, you're confusing me."

"I didn't do it. Whatever you see, whatever they say on the news, I didn't do it," he rambled on, ignoring her interrogation. The urgency in his voice was starting to scare her. "I'll contact you when I can. I love you."

"I love you too, but what—."

The line went silent.

Paige pressed her screen to redial the number, but it went to voicemail immediately. And again. And again. She gave up after the fourth attempt.  _The news._ He'd mentioned the news. Clutching her phone in her hand, she ripped off her apron and reached the living room in record time, fumbling for the remote before she finally turned the TV on. Paige flipped through the channels until the words  _Homeland Bombing_ caught her attention at the bottom of the screen.

_We'll continue to report details of this horrific attack as we learn them_ , the reporter was saying, as images of fire and debris rotated behind her.  _At 3:47, explosives were detonated on the south side of the Department of Homeland Security office here in Los Angeles. Two people have been confirmed dead, while dozens more are missing or in critical condition. Police have yet to apprehend the suspect, who was caught on security footage._

Her phone vibrated again and she answered without hesitation when she saw the name on the caller ID. "Cabe? What's happening? Have you talked to Walter?"

"No. Have you?"

"A few minutes ago." Paige shut her eyes tightly, trying to remember exactly what Walter told her. She hugged her knees to her chest. "But he wasn't making sense. He just kept saying it wasn't him and to listen to you. Was he there? He didn't say he was hurt. Cabe, I don't understand what any of this has to do with Walter."

The agent sighed deeply on the other end. "Are you watching the news?"

"Yes. Do they know who…" Paige trailed off as she recognized the face on the screen.  _Walter O'Brien, a contractor with DHS, escaped before he could be taken into custody. Investigators believe this video shows O'Brien planting the explosives which resulted in the loss of at least two lives this afternoon. They are encouraging everyone to be on the lookout for the fugitive, who is considered extremely dangerous._ "Cabe?"

"Paige," he said solemnly. "The U.S. government just branded Walter a terrorist."


	2. Facts

Paige jumped a mile at the knock on her door. She knew how absurd it was, but she couldn't stop the fleeting hope that Walter was on the other side, ready to embrace her and tell her what the hell was happening. She'd fallen asleep, maybe, and this was a nightmare. Or an elaborate practical joke that wasn't particularly funny.

Because the death toll was up to seven. And the world thought that Walter was guilty.

"Paige?" She fought through her haze to process the agent's voice, quickly moving to unlock the door. Cabe stepped in, grasping her upper arms. "I got here as fast as I could. Traffic is gridlocked. Have you heard anything?"

She shook her head, suddenly aware of how damp her cheeks were. "Every call goes to voicemail. If he even still has that phone, it's shut off." Paige sucked in a breath that sounded more like a sob. "Cabe, he would never…"

"Oh kid, I know." He wasted no time pulling her into a hug, holding her tightly as her tears soaked through his shirt. It felt like every atom in her body was shaking and she struggled to catch even one solid breath. "But whoever set him up for this did a hell of a job. Every law enforcement agency in the U.S. is on Walter's trail and that video means every civilian will be too."

Paige shuddered.  _Additional cameras were part of a recent two-million-dollar security upgrade,_ the reporters had been saying.  _The suspect managed to evade the other cameras, but was apparently not aware of his new angle._ She couldn't deny it looked bad. It  _looked_ like Walter wiring explosives at seven-thirty that morning, in an unguarded area of the building that would later be reduced to rubble and ash, wearing the same clothes he left her apartment in. If she was watching from the outside, if she'd never heard the name Walter O'Brien before, she would take it as irrefutable proof of his guilt.

But she did know him. She knew the Walter O'Brien who was kind and self-sacrificing and who had spent more than a decade carrying the burden of Baghdad squarely on his shoulders. The man who'd hugged her son goodbye the prior night, a proud smile on his face, before taking her home and loving her tenderly and thoroughly. And that man was incapable of something this horrific.

There had to be another explanation. For the video. For all of it.

Paige backed out of Cabe's arms, frantically wiping moisture away from her eyes. "What about the meeting? The budget? Why would he do that and then just go sit in an office w-with explosives in the building?"

The agent sighed. "Walter never showed. He swiped his badge to get into the building, and the security guard remembers seeing him enter the lobby. But he didn't make it to the meeting."

"Oh god." She clasped her hand over her mouth as another sob threatened to escape. "None of this makes any sense. I-If he just turns himself in, we can figure this out, we can prove that he's innocent, right?" Paige squeezed her eyes shut, picturing the last time she saw him, the casual assurance that he would return in a few hours. And she'd believed him. She had no reason not to. "If he didn't do it, why would he run?"

"I don't know. But if someone wants to take Walter down this badly, I'm sure they figured out how to control him." Cabe cocked his head, offering her a sympathetic look. "Threatening people he cares about, for example."

Paige lurched backward, the weight of his implication crushing her. "No. No. No, no, no, no." The genius would do anything for her and her son—she'd seen that in action dozens of times. Even if it meant risking his life. Even if it meant disowning every incredible thing he'd ever done and allowing himself to be hunted like a criminal.

"I'm not saying you and Ralph are definitely in danger. I'm just saying that I'm sure Walter has a good reason for disappearing, and no matter what, he would expect me to keep you safe. I'll make sure you and Ralph are protected."

_Ralph._ She'd been so consumed with thoughts of Walter that she didn't think about how she was going to explain this to Ralph. There was no way he would believe his mentor was responsible, would he? He knew the genius even better than she did. Their bond defied description. Seeing his hero villainized on national TV would decimate him.

"R-Ralph is at school. I have to pick him up," Paige stammered. "I have to pick him up now."

"You can't."

She was already halfway to her purse when his words stopped her in her tracks. Cabe's expression was apologetic and Paige realized with abrupt clarity why he was really there. "They already have him, don't they?" She advanced toward the agent rapidly, shoving him hard by his shoulder. He didn't stop her. "Damnit, Cabe! Did Homeland ask you to stall me until they got here? You didn't trust me not to do something stupid?"

"They're going to question me, same as you, same as Ralph. I just wanted to make sure that you and the kid were taken in as quietly and safely as possible. If I could have gotten to Ralph's school before them, I would have made him my priority, but there wasn't enough time."

Paige blew out a harsh breath, balling her hands up into fists. "They can't question Ralph. He's a kid. He doesn't know anything."

"They don't know that. Hell,  _you_ don't know that." She hated to admit that Cabe was right. Ralph was wildly observant. He could have seen or heard something important and stored it away without realizing its significance. But that didn't make her any more on board with him being locked in a room and interrogated like he was when he'd played that stupid video game. "You don't have a say in this, kid. They'll take you to see him as soon as possible. He'll get a lawyer. The rest of the team will be brought in too, though I'm sure they'll have us separated to keep us from agreeing on a story."

"There is no story! Walter isn't behind this and we sure as hell didn't help him!"

"I believe that as much as you do. And we'll prove it." Cabe stepped away from the door, bending his arms and clasping his hands behind his head as the commotion on the stairs became unmistakable. There hadn't been any unusual activity visible from her windows, but she wouldn't be surprised to find government-issued SUVs parked near the opposite side of the building. "Just follow my lead."

_Do whatever he tells you to do._ Walter trusted Cabe to fix this mess. And she trusted Walter.

Paige put her hands behind her head as a flood of agents rushed into her apartment.


	3. True Nature

"Mom?"

Paige thought she didn't have anything left in her, but tears welled up as soon as she heard Ralph's voice. She turned around, rushing over to him and dropping to her knees, pulling him close to her. He didn't like when she lowered herself to his height, anymore. He insisted it made him feel like a little kid. But she didn't care. Not today. "I'm so sorry, baby. I should have been there when they picked you up." Paige pressed a kiss to the side of his head. "Don't be scared. It's going to be okay. Are you okay?"

"I'm fine, mom." He allowed her to squeeze him for another few seconds before gently extricating himself from her grasp. "They won't tell me what's happening, though. Is Scorpion in trouble?"

Paige shot a glare at the two men standing by the door to the interrogation room. She'd paced restlessly around the small space for twenty minutes, demanding to whoever was on the other side of the glass—if anyone was even there—that her son be brought to her. Every request was met with resounding silence. They could surely afford to give her a moment of privacy now.

"You have five minutes," the taller one offered before the two agents left the room, shutting the door loudly behind them.

Paige sat in the hard metal chair, grasping Ralph's hands as he stood in front of her. He looked concerned but otherwise unfazed. As always, she was amazed by his grace under pressure. "Honey…" Paige swallowed. She couldn't let him hear this for the first time from a bunch of strangers, but she was about to crush her son's world just like Cabe had crushed hers.  _Maybe a better mother could have protected him from this._  She shook the thought out of her head. "A bomb detonated at Homeland today. They...t-they think Walter did it. They're claiming that they caught him on surveillance video. And he ran. We don't know why. But it's bad, baby. People got hurt."

People died. She wasn't quite sure why she couldn't say that. Ralph thrived on facts, after all, and the agents questioning him would surely mention that in an attempt to coerce his cooperation. But she couldn't force the words past her lips, because then it would be real. Walter would be a fugitive accused of mass murder.

Ralph stared at her for a long time, silent, the wheels in his head turning almost visibly. "Do you think he did it?"

_Of course not, how could you think that?_ Her pulse ratcheted. If her son, who worshipped and idolized Walter, had doubts, what hope would there be for anyone else to believe in his innocence? Did Ralph see something that she was too blind to notice?

She stopped. He wasn't asking if there was a chance Walter was guilty. Ralph already knew he wasn't. He was asking if  _she_ was unsure. The tightness in her throat eased slightly. "No. It's not who he is."

"Nope," the young genius said simply before staring down at his sneakers. "What should I say? I want to help Walter."

"Oh, honey." Paige brought her hand to his face, brushing his temple with her thumb. "We all do. But it's not your job to worry about this. You don't have to answer any of their questions, but if you do, just tell the truth. Walter is innocent. The truth can only help him."

Ralph nodded and stepped forward, wrapping his arms around her neck. She barely restrained herself from sobbing again as she rubbed his back. Whether he was doing it for her benefit or his own, she couldn't be sure. But he didn't let go until their five minutes were up.

* * *

"You were married to Mr. O'Brien for several years, is that correct?"

Happy popped her gum. "Don't ask me questions that are already answered in your dipshit file."

Agent Daniels raised his eyebrow, closing the folder in his hands and pushing it to the side. "Straight to the point. Alright. Why did your marriage fail?"

"Eh, he was a little too nerdy for me."

"Mrs. Curtis, this is a serious matter," Agent Schwartz said sternly. "Public servants—people working for the good of this country—lost their lives today. You're a smart woman, and your work for Homeland suggests that you feel a duty to protect others. Do you really agree with what Mr. O'Brien did today?"

"No. I don't."

"Then I encourage you to put aside your loyalty to him and help us to—."

"I mean you're wrong. I don't feel a duty to protect others," Happy interrupted, promptly silencing Schwartz. She leaned forward, clasping her hands together on the table. "If I'd never met Walter O'Brien, I would still be bouncing between dead-end jobs and telling the world to go screw itself. Because I don't care. Not like he does." The mechanic huffed out a dry laugh. "He's risked his life dozens of times doing your job for you. He's as much a public servant as anyone who died today. You should throw him a damn parade."

Daniels clenched his jaw. "With all respect, Mrs. Curtis, we've shown you the evidence. We are aware of his record, but we have little doubt that Mr. O'Brien is responsible for this attack."

"Evidence can be faked. What he's done can't." She dropped back into her chair, staring the two agents down. "I bet you'd love to hear that our marriage broke up because he was abusive, unstable, violent, right? That I knew something like this would happen eventually?" Happy shook her head. "Walter was willing to upend his entire life to protect my family. That's the person you just destroyed."

* * *

"I told him not to wear that shirt. Terrible color."

Schwartz paused the recording, narrowing his eyes. "Do you understand what you're watching here, Mr. Curtis?"

Toby shrugged. "America's Most Wanted?"

"This..." The agent cleared his throat, his exasperation growing steadily more evident. "This footage shows your business partner wiring explosives in the exact location where they were later detonated, killing seven and critically injuring twelve."

"Ha! First off, Walter is my boss. He'd have a stroke if you called us partners." Toby cocked his head to the side, tapping the rim of his hat. "Second, you have video that may or may not feature him doing something that vaguely involves wires, in an area that  _you_ swear is the same even though every inch of this boring building is identical. Not to mention the whole thing could be a fake."

"Preliminary analysis confirms that the video was unaltered," Daniels rebutted.

"That's cute. I'm Toby Curtis, it's nice to meet you." He extended his hand, pulling it back when the agents looked at him in confusion. "You clearly haven't met me, or the rest of Scorpion, because we have software that could fool any of your besuited analysts. And if we do, that means someone else does too. Can't stop progress."

Daniels ran a hand through his stiff blond hair, fixing his best hardened stare on Toby. "Your wife has agreed to cooperate. I suggest that you follow her lead and make this easier on both of you."

The psychiatrist snorted. "Yeah, Hap's nothing if not cooperative. I bet she raised all kind of hell." Their shared glance confirmed his suspicions. "Look, I know O'Brien is a slam-dunk suspect here. You have all the evidence against him. Since Agent Daniels here," he motioned to the taller man, "is angling for a promotion, and Agent Schwartz has been sleeping in a motel since his wife kicked him out, I imagine you both need a big win right now."

Dead silence. Toby smirked.

* * *

"Mr. Dodd. I wish we were meeting under better circumstances. I'm Agent Forrester." Sylvester pulled his shirt sleeve over his palm and touched the man's outstretched hand. "Are you ready to get started?"

"I don't know what I can tell you."

Forrester took a seat and gestured for Sylvester to do the same. He pressed his lips into a thin line. "You're aware of the accusations against Mr. Brien, yes?"

"Yes. But it wasn't him."

Forrester raised his eyebrow. "I've read your file, Mr. Dodd. A brilliant mathematical mind. You've played an invaluable role in Scorpion's cases. Tell me, is it statistically more likely that Mr. O'Brien carried out the attack today, or that the evidence is somehow incorrect?"

"Incorrect? No." Sylvester shifted to get comfortable in the narrow chair. "Planted? Yes. It's not the first time we've been wrongly accused of a crime. Walter being guilty?" He took a deep breath, giving his voice more substance. "Not a chance."

"We want justice to be served, Mr. Dodd. That's all." He clicked his pen, poising it above a notepad that was just out of Sylvester's sight. "You believe Mr. O'Brien has been framed. That's a natural response. Do you have a suspect in mind?"

"N-No," he admitted, his confidence starting to waver. "But if you stop questioning us and let us assist with the case, I'm sure we would find one."

Forrester offered him a condescendingly sympathetic smile. "I'm afraid that would be a conflict of interest. Your best chance of helping him is right here, right now, in this room."

* * *

"This is bull."

"Trust me, Cabe, it took a lot of convincing for me to be in here. They wanted some rookie from New York to handle you, but I told them you'd talk to me." Agent Jenkins tilted his chin in Cabe's direction. "We've been friends a long time."

"Going on twelve years. Doesn't mean I'll tell you what you want to hear."

"All I  _want_ to hear is what you know." Jenkins crossed his arms over his chest and leaned back. "I've met the kid. He's reckless. Insubordinate. Cocky. Is that a fair assessment?"

"Yeah. He's also family. And maybe the best person I know." Cabe straightened up in his seat, aware that Jenkins was intentionally giving him the authoritative position to make him feel more in control. More relaxed. More likely to slip up. "Has anyone bothered with a motive yet?"

"Baghdad."

The blood drained from Agent Gallo's face, but he coughed to cover his reaction. "Walter made his peace with that."

"Did he?" Jenkins's demeanor changed, only slightly, but enough for Cabe to know this would be less than friendly. "From what I hear, you had more than one falling out over it. The first lasted over a decade. Sounds like he has no problem holding a grudge."

"I deserved that. And anyway, it's history now. He's done a lot of good work for Homeland since."

"True." The agent tapped his fingers on the metal table. "He's patient, I'll give him that. Got unrestricted access to Homeland. Time to plan."

Cabe balled his hands into fists, hiding them from Agent Jenkins's view. "Walter might have turned his back on Homeland, and on me, but it didn't make him violent. He was fixing wi-fi and taking care of his sick sister when I met him again."

"Scorpion, and particularly Mr. O'Brien, has received seventeen official complaints in three years. Harassment. Assault. Breaking and entering. According to witnesses, he once let a man drop to his death. Made another man choke on sarin gas. Doesn't sound like my IT guy."

"When you ask us to save the world, you're gonna have to deal with a few broken eggs."

"Not if my agents lose their lives," Jenkins snapped. "Tell me he didn't sit in those hearings, listening to all the things he did wrong, and start to think that he deserved better? That Homeland owed him? Needed to be taught a lesson? You and I both know people kill for a lot less."

"Not Walter. He's spent his whole life trying to save as many people as died in Baghdad that day. No way he'd add more to that list unless it was self-defense."

Jenkins fell quiet, studying the agent intently. Then he stood up, banging on the one-way window, and waited for a young man to enter the room, handing him a stack of papers.

"What is that?" Cabe asked sharply.

"I hoped we wouldn't have to waste our time with this, but I don't think you'll be persuaded any other way." Agent Jenkins threw the printouts unceremoniously on the table. "Mr. O'Brien e-mailed this to us twenty minutes after the attack. Read it. When you're ready to talk, I'll be back."

* * *

"Have you ever seen Walter angry or upset?" Agent Bostwick asked all of his questions in the same tone of voice. Mild, even, encouraging. It was an attempt to develop rapport, and Ralph loathed it.

He looked to James, the lawyer Cabe had called in, and received a brief nod. A nod meant he could answer the question if he felt comfortable, or stay silent if he didn't. If James thought he absolutely should or should not answer a question, he would direct him verbally. They'd prepared for twenty minutes before Agent Bostwick joined them. Ralph didn't think he needed a lawyer—he had nothing to hide, and the rest of the team waived their right—but he knew it would comfort his mom, so he didn't protest.

"Yes. His reactions of anger and frustration seem to be statistically on par with the average for adults. They can be somewhat amplified because of his low EQ, but he's consistently improved in his ability to process and display emotions."

The agent furrowed his brow, which suggested he didn't quite understand Ralph's answer, but pressed on. "Did you ever get scared when Walter was upset?"

"No. There is no evidence to suggest that he would hurt me or anyone else."

"And has he ever talked about the incident in Baghdad with you, Ralph?"

He'd overheard the story when Walter told his mom the first night they met. Walter still didn't talk about it much, but when he did, the weight of it seemed a little less crushing each time. "Yes."

"And how did it make him feel?"

"Sad."

"Why sad?"

Another nod from James. "He blames himself, even though he didn't know what his software would be used to do. He feels like he should have known, because he knows so much." Ralph was gutted when his software was stolen by his professor. He felt betrayed, used, naive. That was a minute fraction of what he imagined Walter felt at sixteen. "He wouldn't hurt anybody. I know people always say that. But Walter is different. Because he would sacrifice himself for anybody, even if he doesn't know them."

Ralph had no doubt that Walter would do whatever it took to come home to him and his mom. But it didn't stop fear from wiggling its way into his head some nights, fear that Walter  _wouldn't_ come home, that he would trade his life for another and Ralph would resent that person forever, even though it was his dad's choice.

Agent Bostwick frowned. "Does Walter blame anyone else for what happened?"

"He blamed Cabe. But Cabe was trying to protect him. And Homeland does more good than harm, so he takes on cases. It's a logical balance of risk versus benefit."

"Ralph," the agent said quietly. "If your file is correct, you're probably the smartest person in this building."  _Definitely this building. And California. Potentially the U.S._ But that didn't seem worth noting. "I think you could help us find Walter. Bring him in safely, so we can get to the bottom of this. Isn't that what you want?"

* * *

Paige tossed the documents on the table. She'd felt guilty even reading them, like she was somehow entertaining the possibility of Walter's involvement. After fighting back a wave of nausea on page three, Paige decided she had enough. "He didn't write this."

"It was sent from his e-mail account. A copy was found on his office computer." Paige glared at Agent Markowski. The garage was the logical first place to search—for Walter, for evidence, for more bombs—but it still felt like an unforgivable invasion of privacy. "We're having it analyzed, but the writing style appears to match reports and proposals Mr. O'Brien has submitted on behalf of Scorpion."

"Okay, but I've known him for three years, and he's never said a single sentence that sounded like this." Paige threw her hands up. "I don't know much about terrorism, but I know a lot about people. And I'm pretty sure they don't successfully hide radical beliefs for years and then unleash them all in a twisted manifesto."

Markowski looked unmoved. Of course he did. He'd never watched Walter hand himself over to armed smugglers, or unhook a speeding train car, or dive into shark-infested water. He knew nothing. "People are shockingly good at hiding their true nature, Miss Dineen. Do you ever watch the news? Watch the family of someone accused of robbery, arson, murder? They all say the same thing: the accused wasn't that type of person, they couldn't be responsible. But the evidence doesn't lie."

He wasn't wrong. And her judgement in people—men in particular—was not always flawless. But from a logical perspective, there would be no purpose in proclaiming his innocence to her and then publicly taking credit. And from an emotional perspective...she'd never known that a person could be as pure and selfless as Walter O'Brien was. He was arrogant. Insufferable sometimes. Clueless most of the time. But he was  _good._

Right?

Paige dropped her head into her hands, smoothing back her hair. She was exhausted from crying and arguing and worrying about her family. Agent Markowski's job was to get into her head, plant the seeds of doubt, turn her against Walter. She had to be strong. For him. "You're wasting your time. I don't know where he is. That's what you really want to ask, isn't it?"

"I find that hard to believe." The agent stood, leaning against the wall and pushing his hands into his pockets. Paige grimaced. She didn't like being looked down on, physically or metaphorically. "You seem convinced that you know Mr. O'Brien quite well. You know all his secrets. So the way I see it, there are two possibilities. Either you know him as well as you think, which means you have at least some idea where he would go. Or you really don't know, because there are still parts of his life that he hides from you. Which one is it?"

"There's no right answer to that question. I—."  _I know everything about him that matters._ It was on the tip of her tongue, but she swallowed it. She didn't have to defend herself. She wasn't legally required to say anything, and she would be damned if she let this stranger manipulate her. "I'd like to take my son home now. You can direct any other questions through our lawyer."

They shared a challenging look until Markowski backed down, gesturing toward the door. "You're free to go. Agents will be patrolling all of your residences in case Mr. O'Brien pays a visit. That's nonnegotiable."

He knew better than to come to her apartment. It was too dangerous. But Paige couldn't help the small part of her that wished he would. She'd been with him just that morning, not even twelve hours earlier, but she was desperate to see him again. Just to hold him, make sure he was alright, look into his eyes when he assured her that he was the person she thought he was. He couldn't stay in Los Angeles, but he'd never make it to Ireland with his name on every travel watchlist. Paige wasn't sure where else he  _would_ go, and that simultaneously relieved and scared her. She couldn't tell the agents what she didn't know. But maybe there really were parts of Walter that he still kept secret from her.

"Miss Dineen?" Paige paused. Her hand was on the knob, even though she didn't remember getting out of her seat. Agent Markowski shot her a knowing look. "Innocent people don't run."

"They do if there's no other choice," she said before slamming the door behind her.


	4. Assurance

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Thanks for WeBuiltthePyramids for her suggestions on this chapter!

He never should have left Paige's bed.

If he had any idea how that day would unfold—if he'd known that only a few hours later, the world would think he was a mass murderer—he would have stayed with her. Committed every moment to memory and told her over and over how incredible she made him feel.

What was she thinking? He wanted to explain, to hear her reaction, but there wasn't enough time. Did she believe him? Could he rightfully expect her to? He'd watched the video. Seen the news. It all looked real.

Walter slipped further into his seat, tugging his hood down. Fortunately, sunglasses and hoodies were not out of place in Los Angeles, but sooner or later he would start to look suspicious. Agents had arrived at the station minutes after his train pulled away. They would have had more time to catch him at the airport. Driving his car or borrowing one from anyone he knew was not an option. No one looked at each other on the train. It was his best chance for anonymity.

The team would have helped him. Willingly. But he couldn't involve them any more than they already were.

Walter dragged his hands over his face. He'd been so stupid. Why didn't he question it? His meetings with Deputy Director Cooper always took place in the same conference room. Like clockwork. He should have been suspicious when her text named a new location. He should have called. He should have done everything differently.

Walter could feel the bruises on his arms and ribs from being grabbed and bound. Three men. They were on him as soon as he entered the dark room—he'd had no chance of fighting them off, especially not once he was sedated. They didn't realize, of course, that his fingers hadn't quite healed right after he broke two of them on Scorpion's last case. It took all of his remaining mental clarity to snap them again and slip out of his restraints.

It wasn't hard to see, now, why they'd left him there alone. He was on the south side of the Homeland offices, ten feet from the bomb. If he'd known...god, if he'd known, he would have warned everyone. Gotten them out safely. Instead, he barely managed to return to the garage and throw together a bag before the explosives detonated. The last estimate was eleven dead, but that didn't account for the agents and staff who were still missing.

He had to disappear. Walter refused to believe Cooper was involved, but  _someone_ sent that message to lure him. Someone planned to obliterate him with that bomb, and manipulated the footage to make him look responsible. Every law enforcement agency in the country would be chasing a ghost, and no one would ever realize he wasn't the real culprit.

He'd never seen the men's faces. At least one of them had to be a Homeland agent, if not all three. Maybe more were involved. He didn't know why they'd carried out the attack, or why they chose him to frame. It was better for them to believe, as long as possible, that their plan had succeeded. Turning himself in before he knew who to trust was a suicide mission. And that was assuming they wouldn't just throw him in a dark cell for months without a trial.

The conductor announced his station and Walter grabbed his backpack, keeping his head bowed as he moved toward the door. He was exhausted, constantly looking over his shoulder, waiting for someone to recognize him. It had only been a few hours. How long would he be able to keep this up?

Walter checked his watch. Eight minutes until his connecting train. He glanced quickly around the crowded terminal, his eyes landing on a row of phone stations. It wasn't as much cover as he would have liked, but the metal partitions would shield him from onlookers until he could board. He slid into one of the empty seats, fumbling around for the phone in his pocket.

The genius hesitated. Keeping contact to a minimum was the logical course. And what if...what if Paige didn't want to talk to him? What if she blamed him? Walter didn't think he was strong enough to handle that at the moment.

It didn't matter. His need to hear her voice was stronger than his trepidation. He typed in her number, hands trembling, and held the phone to his ear. She picked up after the second ring. "Walter?" she said hopefully.

He swallowed. "Y-Yeah. It's me."

"Oh god. Oh my god." The words were muffled, like she was holding her hand over her mouth. "Are you okay?"

"I'm okay. I'm safe." Walter dropped his head into his hand, suddenly and forcefully wishing that they were face-to-face. He knew the soft noise in the background was her trying to stifle tears; he'd heard it before. "I'm sorry, Paige. I'm so sorry."

"Tell me it wasn't you." His heart twisted painfully at the pleading in her voice. "I need to hear it again. Tell me you didn't do it and I'll believe you."

"I didn't do it," Walter said quietly, not wanting the commuters on either side of him to overhear. "I was supposed to die in the explosion. I got out. Someone set me up, but I don't know who. Not yet."

Paige let out a shuddering breath. "I don't doubt you. I don't. I'm sorry—."

"Paige," he cut her off. "I know. It's okay. I wouldn't blame you if you did."

She was no longer holding back her sobs. Walter shut his eyes, leaning into the phone as if that would allow him to be closer to her. "Where are you going?" she asked finally, her voice shaking.

"Somewhere safe. It's better that you don't know." He needed to end the call. Even on a burner, it wasn't wise to stay on the line for too long. It was possible that her phone had already been tapped. But he didn't want to let her go. "Paige?"

"Yeah. I'm here."

"I, uh..." Walter cleared his throat, feeling his own eyes start to burn. Getting emotional would only draw attention. He tried to steady his breathing. "I would never give up my life with you and Ralph. F-For anything. I wanted you to know that."

Paige didn't answer right away. Sometimes, when they were on the phone, she would nod and then remember that he couldn't see her. He wondered if she was doing that now. "Just come home, Walter. I love you."

"You're the love of my life." Walter always said that when  _I love you_ didn't seem like enough. This was one of those times.

He hung up.

* * *

The breeze felt good. It was a warm evening, and the sky was overcast. There were enough people walking around, waiting for tables at restaurants or pointing into the windows of stores, that Walter could pass through mostly unnoticed.

That was another reason he'd chosen the train. From the station, it was only a ten-minute walk. Safer than being studied by a cab driver. Everything he'd taken with him fit in one bag—his laptop, two disposable phones, and whatever clothes were within reach. Nothing else seemed that important.

Walter didn't have to double-check the address. He'd been turning it over and over in his head for hours. He walked around to the back of the complex, jogging up the stairs and knocking on the door to apartment twelve. He moved back as the door swung open in his direction.

"You made it," Veronica said with a grin, stepping aside. "Come in."


	5. Work

_"You made it," Veronica said with a grin, stepping aside. "Come in."_

"Thanks," Walter said, resting his fork beside his plate and wiping a spot of spaghetti sauce off the table with his napkin. "Uh, that was good."

Veronica snorted. "Please. I'm a terrible cook." She leaned back into her chair, taking a sip of her red wine. "Tomorrow we'll order Chinese."

The genius released a breath, Veronica's candor putting him a little more at ease. Paige would have appreciated his attempt at a compliment, but in all honesty, he'd only finished the meal because he was ravenous after nearly fourteen hours without food.

"Oh. Okay." He swallowed. "Thanks."

"You don't have to keep thanking me. That sauce could have gone to much better use in a Bloody Mary."

"No, I mean…" He faltered. What did he mean? He'd never excelled at expressing gratitude, although he made a concerted effort for Paige and Ralph. Walter tucked his hands in his lap, shifting uncomfortably. "T-Thanks for...all of this."

Veronica nodded understandingly, tipping her glass in his direction. "You're welcome to stay here as long as you need. I've been using the spare room as an office, but the sleeper sofa will fit in there." She tilted her head, a small smile forming on her face. "I don't even know why I got it. No one comes over. Maybe I just knew I'd harbor a fellow fugitive someday."

_Fugitive._ Scorpion had chased plenty of fugitives, but despite some activities of questionable legality, that term never applied to them directly. It sounded foreign even though he understood logically that she was referring to him. "I won't stay long," he insisted, scratching the side of his face. "I can't p-put you in danger like that. I just need to sleep and figure out my next move."

Staying in any one place was far too risky. He had a few hundred in cash and an offshore account registered under a different name that was unlikely to be frozen. Not in preparation for this, precisely, but Scorpion was more or less in the habit of pissing off government agencies and it always seemed the wisest course to protect his team against retaliation. He'd be able to live off that for a few weeks if he bounced around the cheapest no-tell motels he could find.

He didn't know why he was so surprised when Veronica responded by rolling her eyes. "Honey, I was putting myself in danger before you were born. I don't need you for that. At least this time I'll do some good."

Walter frowned. "Good?"

She set her glass down, pressing her lips into a tight line. "Paige has spent her whole life wondering where I was. I'm going to assume she doesn't know where you are, either?" He shook his head. "Then she at least deserves to know you're safe. That is one thing I can do right for her."

The genius cringed as Paige's tearful voice echoed in his head. Maybe he was wrong to run. Maybe he should have stayed in Los Angeles, accepted the consequences and spared her that constant, familiar uncertainty. Maybe he should have brought them with him.

Walter pushed the thought out of his head. No matter how desperately he wanted to be with Paige and Ralph at that moment, he could never be selfish enough to jeopardize their lives and futures that way. "You don't even know if Paige believes me."

"I don't have to. She has a certain...talent for seeing the best in people." Veronica shrugged. "Besides, anyone who's spent more than five minutes with you would know you're not responsible."

He'd hesitated plenty before reaching out to her through Ralph's encrypted communication channel. He was reasonably sure she wouldn't blow her own cover to expose him, but there was a sizeable reward for information on him and he didn't want to make any assumptions about her priorities. "Most people think I am."

"Most people are idiots. If you were guilty, you wouldn't dare come here anyway. I'd flip on you in a second to protect my daughter."

He was supposed to protect Paige. He'd vowed, once, that he wouldn't let anything happen to her. She wasn't supposed to need protection  _from_ him. But now the whole team was under fire because he'd been stupid and distracted and let his guard down, and if his attackers came after her for his location, he wouldn't even be there to keep her safe. "I…" Walter trailed off, curling his bottom lip under. "I-I'm sorry."

"Why?"

"Because. I'm hurting her."

Even though she wasn't privy to his internal monologue, Veronica didn't appear the least bit confused. "Not by choice." She shook her head. "I'm the last person qualified to pass judgment on causing Paige pain. Don't apologize to me. But if you don't want to be one more person who leaves her alone, then I suggest you pull yourself together and get to work."

* * *

Paige swirled the coffee in her mouth, forcing herself to swallow it. She didn't even taste it anymore, not after her fifth cup. Sixth? She'd lost track a while ago. It wasn't shocking that sleep proved elusive the night before, even though Cabe had virtually ordered her to go home and rest, arguing that she would be in no shape to help Walter if she didn't take care of herself. She was so exhausted she could barely remember her own name, but staring at the empty spot on her bed where the genius had been sleeping less than twenty-four hours earlier was hardly relaxing.

She could smell his scent on the sheets. It was unbearable. The couch wasn't much better—her ottoman was still in the spot where he positioned it to prop up his feet. Finally, she'd given up and slid in next to Ralph, unsuccessful in her attempts not to disturb him. He was too old to share a bed with her, but when he'd responded by silently handing her a pillow, she knew he understood and shared her need for comfort.

Walter wasn't a killer. But nobody was going to take her word for it. She knew that wherever he was, he was doing everything he could to find the truth, and it was up to the team to do what he couldn't.

"That video could have easily been created with a program like Walter's 3D imaging software," Happy offered, perching on the edge of her desk to avoid a chaotic stack of papers. At six a.m. they had finally been allowed back in the garage, which was, in polite terms, utterly trashed. The majority of their equipment was missing, and what was left would take weeks to reorganize. Happy had to sweep the entire structure for bugs and rewire the seven she found before the team could discuss Walter's case. "But I can't run an analysis off the stuff on the news. I need the original feed."

Cabe checked his phone for what seemed like the fiftieth time that morning before sliding it back into his pocket. "We're all locked out of the Homeland system, and you can bet your ass they'll be waiting for a member of the team to try and hack in. It won't look good for us. Besides, the government's best techs couldn't find any alterations in the video."

"Yeah, that's the point," Happy snapped, crossing her arms in front of her. "You need specific code to disassemble it. If I'm right, then Walter's got the key, but that's all kind of moot if I can't get my hands on the security footage."

"Let me do it."

All eyes turned to Ralph. His connection to Scorpion was widely known, and Paige thought it would be wise to keep him out of school until this was resolved. He wasn't likely to focus on much anyway. "Absolutely not." She'd be damned if her son got yanked off the street by Homeland agents one more time. "I don't want you involved, and neither would Walter."

"I'm the only person here who thinks like him and I know almost everything he knows," Ralph argued insistently. "His laptop is in federal custody, right? We need the documents that were planted, and I already know how to get into it. Then we can use his computer to crack Homeland's servers without raising a red flag."

Sylvester furrowed his eyebrows. "I don't understand how."

The young genius let out a long-suffering sigh. He was an unusual pre-teen, but a pre-teen nonetheless. "You trusted me to launch a missile, right? Trust me with this."

"He's not wrong." Paige glared at Toby, and he promptly withered. "But it's your call. Obviously."

The liaison bit her lip. Ralph's intelligence was practically unfathomable to her, and his desire to follow Walter's selfless path made her proud. But he was only thirteen. She couldn't let him loose in the world just yet. She spun her chair to face him, taking his right hand in hers. "What's the chance of you getting caught?"

He thought. "Twenty-six percent."

"Okay." She blew out a breath. This could be their opportunity to help Walter, but what kind of mother would she be if she sacrificed her son for her boyfriend? And yet, Ralph only dealt in facts. If he believed the odds were in his favor, than they were. "Only if you swear to stop at the first sign of trouble. Sylvester will sit with you to make sure, and if he says to pull the plug, you do it. Okay? Immediately, or you're getting benched from Scorpion for at least a year. Maybe longer."

"Okay." Paige quirked her brow and Ralph sighed again. "I swear."

"Good." She squeezed his hand before turning back to the group. "Toby, where are you with the manifesto?"

"Finished it last night. Whoever wrote it nailed 197's superiority complex, but not his writing style. I'm running passages now to see if I can match its syntax to anything published online."

Paige nodded, choosing to let his snide remark go. They were all handling the stress in different ways, and fighting against each other was a waste of energy. "I'll search the garage for anything Homeland missed."  _I know it the best. I've been here the most._ She didn't say it, but she didn't need to.

"Good idea." Cabe glanced at his phone for the fifty-first time. "Happy, you help Paige. I'll keep reaching out to my contacts for updates. And for the love of god," he pleaded. "Someone make more coffee."


	6. Contact

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Well I didn't expect to go on hiatus with this fic for quite so long, but stuff happens. Thanks to anyone who is jumping back on board or reading this for the first time. I know I'm way way way behind on reading/reviewing too, sorry. I've been stressed lately and writing helps that the most. This chapter is just getting me back into the story so be patient with me. ;)
> 
> Previously on this story: Walter has been framed for bombing Homeland and killing people, he went on the run because the real culprits were maybe part of Homeland and tried to kill him, he's hiding with Veronica, and agents searched/trashed the garage. Alright, I think that's the important stuff.

Walter was a bit of a packrat. His loft was stuffed with items that inspired him, things he found useful, and even—though he would never admit it—objects that held emotional significance. But everything was in its place. Always. His system made no sense to her, but she knew better than to come in and rearrange his safe haven.

He would hate to see it now.

Paige tried to stay professional as she surveyed the damage. Her only objective was to find something that could help him, some shred of evidence that would make it all go away. Let him come back home. Back to her.

She couldn't look at the bed. She and Walter had spent their first night together here, and so many wonderful nights after that, and Homeland agents ripped it all up without a thought to the history and love that occupied this room. The desk. She could handle the desk. His computer and most of his papers were gone, but there were still a few odd invoices that she'd asked him to review. The drawers were filled with nothing more exciting than tape dispensers, staplers, and charging cables. She tossed it all on top of the desk for Happy to scan, just in case.

Paige pushed back the nagging doubt in her head that reminded her she had no idea what she was looking for. Would she even know if she saw it? She didn't understand anything that was happening or how the pieces fit together. Was Agent Markowski right in assuming that Walter was hiding parts of his life from her? Or was he just as confused and in the dark as she was?

There was a loud crunch under her foot as she stepped away from the desk. Her hand flew to her mouth as everything she'd been suppressing rushed overwhelmingly to the surface. "You okay, Dineen?" Happy asked, walking over from the kitchen and stopping suddenly. "Not good."

Paige bent down, grabbing the shattered frame. The photo of Ralph at the science museum, Walter's arm draped around him as they were lost in conversation, captured their relationship so perfectly that Paige had to get it printed out. Seeing it on proud display in his loft the next night was one of a million tiny things that made her fall for him all the time.

She was sure her son felt the tiniest bit abandoned, even knowing that Walter had no choice. Because she felt it too.

Taking a deep breath, she placed the frame gingerly on the desk. "Let's keep looking," she said on an exhale as she started rooting through the books on his shelving unit.

"Paige."

She swallowed, feeling the mechanic's focused gaze on her. Paige shook her head, picking up a random almanac and flipping through its pages. "We don't have time for me to fall apart."

"Yes, we do." Happy stomped her foot, her boot connecting loudly with the concrete floor. "And you better do it now, because if you try to keep it together it's going to catch up to you and that fall will be a bitch."

She returned the book to the shelf, pressing her lips together. Happy was right, of course. She had to keep a brave face for Ralph, but right now it was just them and hell if she hadn't been there for some of Happy's toughest moments. "I just, uh…" Paige cleared her throat, burning tears pricking her eyes. She blinked them back. "If it was me, Walter would know what to do. He always does. And I don't know where to start helping him or even if I can, and I feel so  _useless._ "

"You're not useless. Walt will do whatever it takes to clear himself if it means he gets to see you and Ralph again. Everything he does is for you guys. Don't be stupid."

She prayed that was true. "I hate this, Happy. The fact that Walter could save so many lives and everyone just...turns on him, believes he could do all this terrible stuff, I don't…" She shrugged, turning to face the mechanic. "I don't even know if any of it matters. Everything he devoted his life to. Nobody seems to care about that now."

"No. We have almost died too many times for it to not mean anything," Happy snapped. "When we clear him, he's gonna come back and be the same selfless pain in the ass we both know and love."

Paige swallowed, her chest so tight she felt like she could be having a heart attack and not even know it. "And what if he doesn't come back?" Even the suggestion was painful. "What if we can't clear him and staying away is the safest option for him? I've already said goodbye to my mother, I don't think I can…" She paused abruptly, her eyebrows furrowing.

"Can what?" Happy exhaled dramatically when she didn't answer. "Can  _what,_ Dineen?"

He wouldn't. Would he? It was risky, to be sure, but going anywhere was risky for Walter at the moment. And no one outside the garage knew that Veronica Dineen was still alive.

Paige released a shuddering breath. She couldn't believe she hadn't considered the possibility earlier. But just imagining that he might be out there, safe with someone who would look out for him, made the knot in her chest untangle slightly. And, more selfishly, knowing that she could name at least one place he might go made her doubt a bit less how well she knew the genius.

"Paige! A little help!" Her train of thought was broken by Sylvester's panicked voice. The two women exchanged glances before running downstairs, where the mathematician was pacing behind his desk while Ralph furiously typed on a keyboard. "He won't stop," he said the second he saw her. "By my estimation he only has forty seconds before he gets noticed in the system, but if I interrupt him before he finishes, he can't cover his tracks and the hack is going to be way too noticeable."

"Ralph?" She put a hand on the desk, Sylvester's warning the only thing keeping her from yanking her son's chair away from the computer. "We had a deal."

"Give me twenty-eight seconds and you can ground me for the rest of my life."

"I'm going to hold you to that," Paige muttered, holding her breath as she waited. God, she was a terrible mother. But she'd already spent too long handicapping him because she didn't understand what he was capable of.

"Done," he announced, shutting off the monitor. The team crowded around as he swiped to unlock his tablet. "I got all the documents off Walter's laptop, the original security footage, and whatever else I could download in time. I'm sorry."

"Sorry?" Paige crouched down, stroking his hair. "Honey, why would you be sorry? You got us everything we needed."

He shook his head, frustration seeping into his voice. "I couldn't figure out a way to stay tapped into Homeland's system without getting discovered. We could have kept tabs on the investigation. We would have access to all of their evidence."

Paige sighed, amazed that  _this_ was the conversation she was having with her thirteen-year-old son. "Ralph," she said patiently, "you're the only one of us who could do this. You did more than enough. And you were safe, which is the most important thing. Walter would never ask you for anything else, okay?" The young genius nodded and Paige smiled, simultaneously bursting with pride and feeling like she might pass out.

"I'm glad the kid had some luck because the manifesto is a dead end." Toby was using an old, dusty laptop and Paige expressed silent gratitude that Homeland hadn't bothered with the crappy equipment in storage, giving them something to work with, however slow. "The phrasing matched posts from a bunch of anti-government message boards, but the IPs trace back to fake names and addresses in Indonesia. These aren't your average militia wannabes."

"Wait," Sylvester said, peering at the screen intently. "I've seen these usernames before."

"What? How?"

He frowned, digging into his memory. "March 19, 2017. Walter walked away from his computer to get a glass of water and I saw his screen. He was exchanging messages with these four usernames," the mathematician explained as he pointed to Toby's list. "Whoever wrote these...I think Walter knows them."


	7. Empathy

For a long few seconds, there wasn't a noise in the garage. Paige ran a hand through her hair, exhaling in frustration at the silence. "What does that mean? Why would Walter be in contact with these people?"

Sylvester twisted his hands together. "I don't know. I only looked at the screen for a second. It was…" He shut his eyes, calling up the image in his head. "I-It was a private chat. Not a message board. The conversation was moving fast. It's all out of context, but I'll write what I saw." He took a seat at the desk Ralph had just vacated, borrowing the young genius's tablet and starting to type.

Paige felt a hand on her back and looked up to see Cabe's sympathetic expression. "I'm sure there's a good explanation, kid."

"But it's not going to help him, is it?" Homeland had his computers. Their best techs would be combing through every interaction, every search, every download. It was only a matter of time before they reached the same conclusion as the team, if they hadn't already.

"Depends on what they talked about. If they've been planning to set Walter up for a while, that chat might be more incriminating that he realized at the time. We need all the details."

Sylvester stood up, his chair squeaking loudly. They'd found it on the floor that morning and Paige surmised that one of the wheels had been damaged when the agents knocked it over. "This is all of it," the mathematician said, offering the tablet to Cabe. "I'm sorry. I-I should have—."

"Sly," Paige interrupted, knowing exactly what he was going to say. They wouldn't get anywhere beating themselves up like this. "This is a start. Thank you."

He nodded, looking apologetic but mollified. Happy read over Cabe's shoulder, frowning. "Not good."

"No, it isn't," Cabe admitted. "Sly?"

Sylvester shrugged, passing the tablet off to Ralph and Toby. If anyone had insight into Walter's mind, it would be his protégé. But the young genius looked as perplexed as the rest of them. "I'll start working on it."

"Okay, honey. Just be safe," Paige reminded his retreating form. She leaned in, lowering her voice. "Can't we access Walter's laptop again and find the whole thing?"

Toby shook his head. "Not for a few days. It's risky tapping into Homeland's system too often."

Part of her had already known that. And there was no way she was going to put Ralph in the line of fire unnecessarily. She was already doubting how much she'd let him get involved.

Happy pressed her lips together. "Even if we get everything, Walter's the only one who knows how he met these jokers and where we might find them. We've got no way to contact him, so we'll have to wait for him to reach out."

"That could be weeks," Sylvester reminded, somewhat superfluously since they were all thinking the same thing. "Months."

"Maybe not."

Paige hesitated, feeling the weight of the team's eyes on her. She hadn't spoken to Walter since he left town, and he'd purposely kept her in the dark about his plans. If her hunch was correct, she didn't want to put him or Scorpion in more danger. If it wasn't, Paige already knew she would be disappointed and embarrassed that she was so blindly hopeful.

But it was worth the risk. For the case and for her own sanity.

Paige crossed her arms, taking a deep breath. "I can't promise anything. But I might know where he is."

* * *

" _How could you do this, Walter? All those people? You just killed them?"_

" _I didn't. Paige, you have to believe me." Her voice was so cold. He'd thought she would trust him. Know he wasn't capable of this. "I was set up. They tried to kill me. Paige—."_

" _Stop. I don't want to hear it. The evidence doesn't lie. I know it was you." Walter clutched the phone in his hand, aware that his breathing was too loud, too shallow. He would look suspicious. Someone in the train terminal would notice a man having a panic attack. "Wherever you're going, you better stay there. If you ever come back, I'll personally help them put you in a dark hole. Don't contact me or my son again."_

" _Paige, please. Please, just listen—."_

_But the line was already dead._

Walter bolted up, his chest thumping. He shut his eyes, inhaling and exhaling deeply until he'd calmed down. It wasn't real. Paige believed him. She was on his side. Their last conversation had convinced him of that.

His nightmares should have been about the bruises that still marked his body. The darkness surrounding him as he was abducted, the pain of breaking his own fingers to escape, the carnage of the explosion that played on a loop on every TV station, reminding him over and over again of what he'd failed to stop. But his subconscious was caught on the terrifying outcome of his family doubting him, turning on him when he needed them the most. If Paige had given up on him, what point would there have been in fighting?

God, he wanted to hear her voice. Reassure her and himself that they would get through this. Make sure she was alright. But calling her again wasn't an option. Reaching out to her unnecessarily was…selfish. Dangerous. Stupid. And incredibly tempting.

Walter's mind was stuck in an unproductive loop, so he got up, stretching out the kinks in his back from the bumpy sleeper sofa and throwing on a shirt. The smell of coffee and the sound of humming alerted him that Veronica was already awake.

"Morning!" she chirped when he emerged from the office. "Do you want a bagel?"

There was a brown bag on the counter from a diner he'd passed while walking to her apartment. He couldn't very well insult the cooking of the woman who was aiding and abetting him, but takeout was still a welcome sight. "Yes. Thank you." He covered his mouth, a yawn taking him by surprise. "What time is it?"

"About seven thirty. I had an early start today." Veronica tilted her head back without moving her eyes from the counter. "Living room."

Walter frowned, bracing himself for whatever potentially illegal activity she had brewing ten feet away.

Didn't matter now. He was in far more trouble with the law than she could ever be.

He stopped short, blinking as he processed the mountain of equipment piled on the coffee table. Monitors, keyboards, SIM cards, and something that looked like a signal scrambler. "What?" was all he managed.

"I saw the laptop you brought with you. It's a piece of junk," she said, setting out a plate with the bagel and a plastic container of cream cheese.

"It's a backup. I couldn't find mine." Walter grunted, feeling annoyed all over again. He didn't misplace things. The more likely explanation was that his abductors had taken it first to plant evidence. He was supposed to be dead, right? They didn't think he would miss it. "Where did this come from?"

"An old associate. Wouldn't quite call him a friend. But if you're going to work your nerd magic on this situation, I figured you could use some technology."

Walter shook his head, frustration and concern getting the better of him. "Veronica, you can't blow your cover to help me. No one is supposed to know that you're alive. What if he—."

She rolled her eyes, leaning against the wall and crossing her arms. "As far as he's concerned, my name is 'paid with cash.' I've been in hiding a lot longer than you, Walter. Have some faith in me?"

The genius pressed his lips together, nodding. Lecturing Veronica was pointless and probably rude, according to a voice in his head that sounded a lot like Paige. He was just determined not to bring anyone else down with his mistakes.

"Thank you." It  _was_ a positive development. He needed to tear apart his life, as deeply as the government was, searching for any evidence that could exonerate him. But too much power usage would draw attention. He would have to ration out his work, keep himself and his de facto safe house under the radar. How was he supposed to prove his innocence when he was crippled like this?

Walter took another breath. He had one of the highest IQs in recorded history and this wasn't the most difficult problem he'd ever faced. Perhaps it just felt that way because he was isolated from his team. But wherever they were, he had no doubt they were fighting for him as hard as he was fighting for them.

"Eat your bagel, Walter. It's artisanal." There a quiet  _ping,_ and Veronica slipped her phone out of her pocket, squinting at the screen. "Huh. I've got a message from Ralph."

The genius stiffened. Ralph was an incredibly intelligent kid. Walter was stupid to think that Ralph wouldn't at least suspect his location. Or maybe he was being paranoid. Veronica was in somewhat regular communication with her grandson. Why wouldn't Ralph reach out, considering everything that had happened? Just to talk?

Veronica smiled wryly and handed him the phone, dropping the hint " _not_  from Ralph" before returning to her breakfast preparation.

_Mom,_

_Maybe I'm wildly off base here. I don't know. I don't know anything right now. But if Walter is with you, or if you know where he is, please give him this message. If not…Ralph and I miss you._

_Walter, I wouldn't reach out unless it was important. We think we have a lead. The manifesto they attributed to you shares a lot of similarities with posts on anti-government message boards. Sylvester says you've been in contact with four of the users before. We need you to tell us what this exchange means, and how you met them._

_JeffersonD: Why is no one listening? People are suffering._

_JamesZG: You need to keep going. We need people who will take action. Not just talk. What you're doing is revolutionary._

_WOB: Thank you. Running into funding problems but this is still my priority._

_WadeH: Money we can help with. This is a good cause._

_ZebulonB: He's right. You have our support._

_JamesZG: We need to change how we do things. At any cost. Lives are at stake._

The usernames were Confederate heroes. Jefferson Davis, James Zachariah George, Wade Hampton III, and Zebulon Baird Vance. He remembered thinking that was a little odd. But he wasn't conversing with them about politics or history, so their implied views weren't relevant. They were brothers who'd read about his MS research and reached out to him, in the midst of caring for their own ill sister. They were empathetic to his experience with Megan. When everyone else had seemed to move on from her death, they were still in the thick of the disease. He related to them. There were a few disagreements over the aggressiveness of treatment, and they gradually fell out of contact, but they had inspired him to continue working toward a cure.

Of course, none of that was real. It had merely been a setup to establish prior history between them. That was months ago. How long had they been leaving breadcrumbs, making sure all trails led back to him? Out of context, this conversation could be manipulated to mean anything. If their inside source had access to his computers now, they could easily tamper with the dozens of exchanges, assembling their own narrative. And any expert would say the communication was real, because it  _was_.

He couldn't have been that naïve. Couldn't have been desperate enough for understanding and support that he bought into their story, too absorbed in holding onto his sister's memory that he missed what was happening right in front of him. But what other explanation was there?

That wasn't the end of the e-mail. Walter scrolled down.

_Since we're already doing this…I miss you so much already, Walter. I hope you are where I think you are, because that means you're not totally alone. Please be safe. And don't worry about the team, Cabe is taking care of us. Just do what you need to do to get through this. However long that takes, we will be right here. I love you._

_Paige_

She always knew what he needed, somehow. Walter released a rough breath, switching off the phone. He needed a moment to process.

"You gonna answer that?" Veronica asked, one eyebrow raised.

"I can't…we can't keep doing this. It's not safe." He set the device on the counter, running a hand over his face. He'd left to protect the team as much as himself. Logically, sharing information with them would yield the best results. But the consequences would be severe if anyone found out that Paige knew where he was, or even that she hadn't disclosed their communication. What if his abductors suspected that they could get to him through her? What would they do to her for the chance to tie up loose ends? "T-Tell Paige she's wrong. Tell her I'm not here."

"I'm not going to do that. I've lied to my daughter enough. Besides, she only knows you're here. She has no idea where  _here_ is. Ralph and I have been e-mailing each other all this time and no one's the wiser, right?"

"It's different," he snapped. There were a million thoughts running through his head unfiltered and it felt almost like that very first step into the rabbit hole. "No one is looking for you. Everyone in the country is looking for me and any contact I have with the team is putting them in danger."

"Do you think they care?" Veronica grabbed his hand and shoved the phone back into his palm, a stern expression on her face, and in that split second she couldn't have reminded him any more of her daughter. "They've made it very clear they're willing to accept that risk. You may be smarter than them individually, but combined they're a hell of a lot smarter than you. You need them. So stop hiding and answer the damn message, Walter. I don't want you living on my couch forever."


	8. Allies

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Thank you for the sweet reviews!

"Hey, waitress."

Paige turned her attention to the mechanic, rolling her eyes at the dated but  _probably_  affectionate nickname. "What's up?"

Happy waved her over to the chaotic desk. Any papers and folders that weren't related to Walter's case had been hastily shoved onto the floor, a monitor from a decade ago standing not-so-proudly in their place. Paige supposed she'd seen the geniuses solve worse problems with duct tape, so old technology wasn't a deal-breaker.

"Make sure Ralph is good," she said, not looking at Paige as she plugged in a USB drive and clicked the mouse twice. "You and Cabe are coming with me. We've got business with Homeland."

Paige groaned internally. She wasn't exactly in a hurry to see those stuffed shirts again. "What business?"

Happy tapped her foot impatiently. "I haven't waited this long for a download since I was five." She shrugged on her jacket, tugging her loose hair out of the back. "The security footage is fake. I disassembled it with Walter's program. There were some alterations to the code, but pretty close. I think someone used our programming on purpose. They knew we could prove it was fake."

Paige frowned, a dizzying number of thoughts hitting her at once. "Why would anyone do that? Why create the footage at all if we could debunk it?"

"Hell if I know," Happy shrugged, releasing a frustrated breath. "As far as I can tell, everything so far has just been a mindf—." She stopped abruptly, casting a glance at the young genius, who was pretending not to eavesdrop. "Maybe they thought we wouldn't get the original footage. Or maybe they thought it would point directly to Walt. Look, the important part is that it's fake. Walter didn't plant the bomb."

"Of course he didn't," she snapped. Happy raised a brow and Paige squeezed her eyes shut, cringing at her own hostile tone. "Sorry. I know you didn't doubt him either. I just haven't slept in…a while."

"Well, get it together, Dineen. I'm gonna need a liaison to keep me from punching these agents in the face."

* * *

_I promised your mother I would accept help from the team. My best shot is us working together. You're just already so much more involved than you should be. If anyone finds out that we're communicating—law enforcement, or the people behind this, or both—stop contacting me immediately and don't try to find me again. Please, Paige. I need you to make that call._

Paige turned the message over and over in her head while she, Happy, and Cabe waited silently in the holding room. Ralph had forwarded the message to her in the car and Paige tried to hide the fact that she was nearly in tears while she relayed Walter's response. Her son promised to dig deeper into Walter's suspicious messages, but she could barely focus on that part.

Paige had never trusted her mother. But if Walter couldn't be with her, there was no one she wanted looking out for him more than Veronica.

If Walter had his stubborn way, she was sure he would protect them at any cost. But she wasn't going to let him struggle with this alone. He'd asked her to cut him off completely if the safety of the team was at risk. She hoped it wouldn't come to that. She couldn't imagine him slipping away from her again.

"Sorry for the wait," Agent Markowski said in an unapologetic tone, motioning for Agent Bostwick to close the door. The two men sat across from the team, the small room feeling decidedly claustrophobic with five people. "We've reviewed the materials you gave us, Mrs. Curtis. I have a few questions."

"Are we under arrest? Because otherwise this all seems a little unnecessary," Happy sniped, her knuckles turning white as she clenched her fist.

"Not unless you want to confess to aiding and abetting Mr. O'Brien," Markowski said coolly, staring them down. Paige stared right back, wishing that literally anyone else had been assigned to talk to them. "Suit yourself. We're short on interview rooms since a third of the structure is no longer standing. And we thought it best not to tempt you to access any of Homeland's intel during your visit."

Paige almost snorted. Like Scorpion needed to be in the building.

"Did the cavemen you call specialists figure out how to—."

"What she means," Paige interrupted, raising her voice to drown Happy out, "is the video was created with a program Walter designed. It's fake. Footage of him laid on top of footage of Homeland and possibly the real bomber. You saw it for yourselves."

Markowski sighed, his stoic expression barely bending. "The footage I watched had been manipulated, yes. But our techs will need to repeat the tests on the original footage to confirm the findings." Paige bit her tongue. There was no way to explain that they  _had_  run the original footage without revealing her son's thoroughly illegal hack. But they didn't have time for this when someone was actively trying to find and kill Walter. "You say Mr. O'Brien created the software?"

Happy nodded, her lips pressed into a thin line. "Yeah. But I wouldn't be surprised if he made it open source. Or else someone stole it."

"Can you prove that he didn't construct this video himself?"

"Why the hell would he do that?" Cabe interjected gruffly. "I don't know about you, but I haven't seen a ton of people framing themselves in this job."

Bostwick—Paige recognized him as the agent who had questioned Ralph—finally spoke. "As we've said before, we cannot conclude yet that this footage is what you say it is. Perhaps Mr. O'Brien wanted to cast doubt on himself. Did he ask you to bring this footage to Homeland?"

"Now listen here—."

"If you idiots think that we—."

"Hey!" Happy and Cabe fell silent, withering slightly under Paige's glare. "Run your tests. And  _when_ you realize that the man who has saved hundreds of lives isn't a mass murderer, then we can all start looking at other leads."

"We'll be in touch," Markowski said with an ambivalence that was  _really starting to piss Paige off_ , checking his watch before the two agents headed for the door.

Happy stuck out her tongue.

* * *

"You did good in there, kid. Sorry we lost our heads," Cabe said gently, patting Paige's back. "Everything we've done for Homeland and they treat us like a bunch of conspiracy nuts off the street."

Paige chewed her lip, shaking her head in determination. "It doesn't matter. Walter didn't do this and we'll prove it any way we have to."

"Let me help."

All three of them jumped out of their skin as Agent Bostwick appeared seemingly out of nowhere behind them. Or possibly from the hallway they'd just passed. That was more likely.

Happy scowled. "What do you want?"

The agent stepped closer, glancing around to see if anyone could overhear them. "I'm not a fan of Mr. O'Brien's. He's abrasive and arrogant."

"Can't argue with that," Cabe grumbled.

"But I've seen what Scorpion does firsthand. Something about this is off. If Mr. O'Brien is guilty, I'll happily put him where he belongs. But if he's innocent, I don't want that on my head." He crossed his arms, looking between the three surprised team members. "What do you need?"


	9. Author's Note

I've decided to discontinue this story. I've just never quite connected to it, and that's made writing each chapter more of a labor than it should be. I'm sorry to leave everyone hanging – I know that's a crazy maker. Just know that it was always going to have a happy ending. :) I'm not sure yet whether I'll delete this story completely, but I did want to put this note up to thank everyone who reviewed it. You were incredibly kind and it's always a pleasure to write for you.

lookingforthestars


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